


Is that Alright?

by waltermitty



Series: Steve and Bucky [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 14:13:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17489519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waltermitty/pseuds/waltermitty
Summary: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_vR32XI3Sr4prompt based off of the song "Is That Alright?" from the film a star is bornSteve and Bucky and their lives together, both before and after the events in infinity war.





	Is that Alright?

_It felt like summer_

_When I kissed you in the rain_

_And I know your story_

_But tell me again_

I’d spent countless summers watching him sit on our tiny balcony, his broad shoulders and lanky limbs all tucked into himself while he puffed on cigarette after cigarette, just staring out into the city, every so often rolling his bronze shoulders and wiping away the gathering sweat on his brow. Brooklyn had a heatwave that fateful summer, the temperature soaring well into the 100’s until as late as 7:00, yet, stubborn as a mule, Bucky would arrive home from work at about half-past 5, shuck his shoes, shirt, and pants at the door, stride purposefully by me, and shove himself through the window and onto the balcony. The pale yellow wood of the window frame was cracked and peeling, and when he was done sitting, he’d crawl back through the window, complaining about a splinter in his hand or shoulder or some other appendage. And I’d lay him down on his back, straddle his slender hips, place my forearm gently in the hollow of his throat, giving myself that extra leverage, and begin to dig the splinter out. It was ritualistic. Sometimes I could be persuaded to join him in this little world, shoving myself behind him and wrapping my skinny arms over his shoulders, as he was careful not to lean on my chest too hard, as he pointed out constellations. It was all we could about stand that summer, the heat suffocating, the silence deafening. The thing about that summer was that it was the summer before Bucky left for the war. Buck and I had been in love since either of us knew what love was. We’d been hidin it for years, during that time it was normal for a coupla’ fellas to live together, especially if they were dirt poor like us. I wanted to fight, to prove myself. My whole life had been spent in bed, fighting for my life, in back alleys fighting some prick for a dame i didn't even know. I was ready to fight for something else, for someone else. Buck didn’t agree. He felt like he owed it to me, to the world, to give something to the greater good. Like he needed to prove to me just how much i meant. It broke my heart. I woulda followed him to the end of the earth. That was the first time I lost him. It was slow, as the tide gently washing out to sea, taking bits of rock and seaweed, pebbles and fish. I cried as I held him that night, the moonlight washing over his sunken cheeks, eyelashes casting mile long shadows, something in my gut telling me soon this place, this feeling, would be a memory we’d never make again.

_Nothing you say wouldn't interest me_

_All of your words are like poems to me_

_I would be honored if you would take me as I am_

Despite Buck’s thinly veiled threats disguised as loving warnings against me forging my enlistment forms, the night of the World's Fair, Buck’s last night before shipping off, was spent thinking only about the war. Buck always loved technology, n seeing Stark’s tech with his own flesh eyes was the happiest I’ve ever seen him. He had long forgotten about the two beautiful dames he brought as our company, one on each arm, as he kept leaning over across one of them or the other to whisper excitedly in my ear. His excitement was contagious, as the girls began to get more and more animated, giggling back and forth about dancing, and what a gentleman James Buchanan Barnes was. As soon as the showcase seemed to be winding down, I made for the enlistment tent, sneaking in between the couples holding hands and taking pictures. I hadn’t even made it within 10 feet of the entrance when a firm hand gripped my shoulder, stopping me dead in my tracks. I turned around ready to get pummeled into the dirt, only to see the face of my lover, screwed up like he’d just tongue fucked the worlds sourest lemon. **Heya Buck!** **Thought you'd be off dancin by now huh?** I wiggled out of his iron grip and crossed my arms. _Mhm, that woulda been mighty convenient for ya huh punk?_ I rolled my eyes and began walking back toward the enlistment tent. Bucky yelled something about bein right back to the girls he had left waiting, trotting behind me. _Have you absolutely lost your goddamn mind, Stevie?_ _I mean of all the fucking shit to be so hard headed about, is this really it?_ Bucky’s red in the face at this point, absolutely vibrating with anger, which I blatantly ignore as I make it to the entrance. Again he grabs my shoulder, this time yanking me to face him. _Steve, you aren’t allowed to join up, n for good reason too, n lyin about it-_ he drops his voice and laughs as a young couple walk by us, glaring at me like I’d just sucker punched an old woman the whole time. _Lyin to the government Stevie. This ain't the local newspaper or sum shit._ _This is the_ _u s of a and they’ll have your skinny ass to jail if they caught wind of your shit. So please, cmon Steve, jus come dancin with me n the girls, n then we can go home and make our last night sumthin to remember, okay?_ His tone is pleading almost, a beg. **I’m sorry Buck,** I manager to whisper, **I gotta, I gotta do sumthin. Sitting home growin turnips while you’re off punchin Nazi’s, well, that aint my style.** _Youre so fuckin stupid, but god if_ i _don’t love ya._ **How can I be, when you're takin it all with ya, ya fuckin mook.** He gives a second glance to the waiting girls, wraps me in a hug that takes the air outta my lungs. He brushes the front of his uniform clean, turns on his heel and strides back to the smiling ladies. I head back inside. Steven Grant Rogers of New Jersey is told to please wait one minute as the nurse and doctor slip out from beyond the curtain. My heart's in my throat, I slip off the exam table and grab my coat and hat, and get ready to make a run for it when the curtain pulls back to reveal a well-dressed man, with kind eyes. He looks over my form, but he isn’t looking at them, really. He knows why he’s here. He turns, offers me a chance. I take it, never thinking twice.

_I hope you're still with me_

_When I'm not quite myself_

_And I pray that you'll lift me_

_When you know I need help_

**I would’ve followed you anywhere Buck.** We’re laying on my tiny cot, Bucky cradled in my arms, my head on his, finally resting. Ever since I found him, strapped to that table, it's been a whirlwind of briefings, and hunting, and constant movement. He’s absentmindedly running his hands over my abs, my hips, my thighs, and all the way back up, my neck and into my hair. There’s a look of confusion and underlying sadness in his eyes. He meets my eyes, and gently rasps out, _Stevie. How'd ya got so big huh? What'd they do to my Steve?_ His strong hands grip my bicep, and the back of my neck, pulling me in close. I sigh and gently lean my forehead against his. _I love ya Stevie. big or small._ **You’re just sayin that sos we can fool around.** Buck pretends to be scandalized, a look of absolute shock rolling across hard features. His eyes give him away, those beautiful cerulean eyes. They hold my future, my love. They twinkle with the mischief of our youth, they tell me the story of the time we hung buckets of water and flour above our doors, each one trying to get the other first. That soft blue, like the ocean on a sunny day, when the sun sparkles off the rolling waves, the kinda blue that makes a fella believe in gods. I lean forward and close the space between us, kissing him as if I'll never get another chance. He melts in my arms, lets me wrap him up, completely surrounding him. _Jesus, how are you so hot?_ **No need to swoon me baby you’ve already got me.** He growls against my mouth, the vibration rolling through my throat and into my toes, pulls back to poke me square in the chest. _No jackass,_ he pants out, pulling his sleep shirt over his head, sitting back on my lap and wiggling a bit before continuing, _you're burnin_ _up like ya got a fever or sumthin._ I poke my tounge out from behind my teeth, and slowly sit forward, careful not to unseat him, calculating my next move. I go for the spot between his throat and jaw, licking a stripe up, glancing at those ocean eyes. He arches his chest into mine, threads his hand into my hair, grabbing my wrist and guiding it to the small of his back. **It's the serum. What? The** **serum's what makes me run so hot.** He rolls his eyes so hard it looks like they might pop out. _Do ya know what a rhetorical question is Steve? Oh look, there's another one._ **Do you want to go back to your own tent?** I throw back, nosing at his jaw, nipping the rough stubble.  _No,_ he quietly gasps. **Yea, that's what I** **thought.** He smiles, that smile, and I gently pull him into me by his dog tags. It feels right, like old times, how quiet we had to be, the walls paper thin. The moon slices through the flap of the tent, bathing his tan skin in constellations. The cuts and bruises from torture, from war, have all but faded, but the sharp edges and shakiness from near starvation hide in his bones. It’s been a long, long, time since I’ve been with Bucky, and the frantic gropes of young teenagers turn into short racked sobs of lovers reunited. He dozes off curled underneath my chin, worn out from the trauma and reunions and I time my breathing to match his, and for the first time since he shipped out, I'm back in Brooklyn, freezing our asses off, home. 

_I want you To look right in my eyes_

_To tell me you love me_

_To be by my side_

_I want you_

_At the end of my life_

_I wanna see your face when I fall with grace_

_At the moment I die_

_Is that alright?_

_Is that alright?_

I can’t get it out of my head, the way he screamed my name as he fell to his death. I couldn’t save him. I spent three days sobbing in a bombed out pub in northern England, downing whiskey like water, trying to feel something, anything. I spent months chasing Red Skull, until I crashed into the arctic, leaving Peggy, leaving Howard. leaving any chance at a life behind. The history books call me a saviour, a hero. I’m no hero, I had nothing left here, nothing left to really live for. I was tired of being a puppet, tired of trying to fall in love again, tired of sketching a life with him I won’t get to have. The ice closing around me, alone, dark, cold. I cried, for Peggy, for Howard, for Bucky, for the Howlies. I sobbed my way into oblivion, into the dark comfort of nothing. I dreamed of him as a I felt my heart slow to a crawl. Buck. The blue of those eyes, swallowing me, his laugh, like honey, slipping in my mouth, my nose, ears, blinding me. I was in his arms again, a field of flowers our bed, the grass tickling our backs, reaching into our hair, anchoring us to it, our hands clasped together, his lips on my cheek. They say when you die your life flashes before your eyes. All I saw was him. It was always, just him.

_It's a warm celebration_

_Of all of our years,_

_I dream of our story_

_Of our fairy-tale_

It’s been months since he found me. I thought I’d finally lost it, thought maybe the ice had done more damage to my brain than they thought, thought maybe I was hallucinating. **Bucky?** _Who the hell is Bucky?_ That rasp, that voice, lit me on fire. I never thought the man I loved, the man I mourned for centuries, would be beating the shit out of me on a helicarrier, Nazis the result of yet another tragedy. The very thing I died for, that Buck had died for, coming back to haunt us. It’s ironic, and not the fun kind of irony that you spend hours giggling at, no this kind of irony is trying to kill me. **You know me.** _No, I don’t!_ The words rip through him like a howl, agony at this stranger, this target. He lunges, finesses and graces long past, his body moving mechanically, going in for the kill. **Bucky.** I’m breathing hard, I know this is the end. **You’ve known me your whole life.** There's a split second of pause, I can see him thinking, calculating. He backhands me hard, I fall onto metal and glass. **Your name** , I’m shaking, barely standing. **Is James Beaucanon Barnes.** _Shut Up!_ I rip the helmet off, I want him to see me. I know deep down he’s in there, he knows me. **I’m not gonna fight you.** I drop my shield, the last line of defense. It clatters down into the river below, sinking to the bottom to settle in the debris and mud. **You’re my friend.** He stares, stares for one long second before launching himself into my abdomen, flattening me to the glass. _You’re my mission._ Each blow I feel less and less, I’m drifting off into his arms. We’re back in brooklyn, two scrawny idiots trying to make ends meet. We’re in Germany, shoved together on my cot, laughing and kissing. He’s screaming, I’m going to die, and just when I got him back. The thought barrels through my head, as metal crushes bone and slices muscle. I can barely see, my eyes are swollen and bruised. He pauses in the barrage of punches, raising the cold metal for the final strike. Hes pausing. He knows. **Then finish it. Cause I’m with ya, to the end of the line.** It takes all the energy I have left to utter those words. The closest thing to I love you I can say at this moment. He freezes, those blue eyes wild, unfocused, pained. His hair, long overgrown and matted with sweat swirls into his mouth and face and envelops him, but those eyes shine through, focused on me. It’s too late. The metal beam suspended above us snaps and crashes through the glass and metal, bringing me down with it. He hangs from the destroyed remains, watches me fall through smoke and shrapnel. The breath is stolen right from my lungs as my back hits the water, the suit doing little to protect from its cold embrace. I give myself to the water, I feel myself slipping away. I’m barely conscious when the strong hand plunges above my, wraps around my shoulder like all those years ago, and once again yanks me back to life.

_Family dinners and family trees_

_Teachin' the kids to say, "Thank you, " and, "Please"_

_Knowin' if we stay together that things will be right_

I’ve been holding my breath since I walked through the door. It took months of searching and fighting before I finally found him. The apartment is bare, a worn down mattress shoved haphazardly in the far corner. There are no tables, chairs, or furniture to make this place home. There's a journal on top of the fridge, pages upon pages describing a man he knows, a man who goes deep beyond Hydra. I suck in a breath, scanning the pages, hearing the gentle pad of footsteps behind me. I turn slowly, as not to startle him. We lock eyes. **You know who I am.** _No, I don't._ He speaks slowly as if he’s unsure of his own voice. **They think you blew up that building.** His eyes flick from where they are drilling into mine to the window, the floorboards. He’s planning escape. _I_ _didn’t_. He gently raises the bag of plums he has in his left hand. **Well, the men who think you did are on their way here.** He nods once, and then as if on cue, turns to the right and lands a swift punch to a man’s throat. Thrust into chaos. After the dust clears, after destroying everything I know to save the man I love, to save us, we can stop running. Tony is gone, left to the fight. Nat and Sam come with Bucky and I to Wakanda, T’Challa says he has someone who can help Bucky. I’m reluctant, I just got him back. I know how it plagues him though, he shakes when he's still and stalks around the safe houses, apartments, and jets like a caged animal. Always on the move. We land in Wakanda, just long enough to make sure he's comfortable, ready to go back into cryo. Shuri takes an immediate liking to him, and he trusts her enough. We are on the move again, promising to come to visit when we can, with T’Challa extending his welcome for us to stay. Shuri says she’ll tell us when he's ready to wake up.  


_I want you_

_To look right in my eyes_

_To tell me you love me_

_To be by my side I want you_

_At the end of my life_

_Wanna see your face when I fall with grace_

_At the moment I die_

_Is that alright?_

_Is that alright?_

_Is that alright?_

_Steve?_ The sound of the snap reverberates through each and every one of us. Thor is the closest to Thanos, his features hardened by death and battle, confusion flitting across his face. It's as if the snap itself has stopped time, everyone paused, poised to strike. I'm panting, sucking in breaths as fast as my lungs will allow, hand pressed to my ribs, I can see Wanda draped over Vision's body, sobs racking her frame. I wipe the blood from my lips as I turn, looking for him. _Steve?_ his voice, gentle, yet filled with fear. I watch as he turns to dust before my eyes. His voice echoes in my ears as I drop to my knees, legs giving out. I place my palm against the space where he just was, disbelief flooding my body. Sam is the next to disappear, Rhodey searching for him. T'Challa finds Okoye in the soft dirt, reaches for her. He fades to dust as she falls backward, shock and horror painting her face. Wanda is next, surrendering herself to her grief, no fight left in her. Groot is next, his companion crying out for him. Warriors begin to fall. I watch my teammates, allies, their screams of fear cut off by silence. I can feel the hot tears streaking down my cheeks in steady rivulets now. I'm fighting to compose myself, to get to my team, to count up the missing. I slowly get to my feet, stumbling the few feet away. I count off the missing, and as the realization begins to set in, I begin to run through each and every option. I gather Nat, Thor, Rhodey, and Banner, and we begin the long journey home. At first, the days seem to sludge together, sleep escaping me as I try to think of what the hell we're gonna do. We all lost someone, Thor lost his brother Loki, his best friend Heimdall. Bruce doesn't know where Tony is, but they have one another to comfort. They stay holed up together in Bruces lab, or their room. Natasha can't get ahold of Clint, Sam went with Bucky in the snap. I feel like a kid back in Brooklyn, shaky breath after shaky breath. My chest aches for him. As the days go on, the pain never lessening, I begin to see him in my dreams. His laugh, the way he tied his hair back in a bun. The crisp press of his uniform, the way he wore his cap cocked, the strong line of his neck. I dream of his eyes, the way he called out for me. This is gonna work Steve, she rasps out, her eyes flitting towards me.  **I know it is. Cause I don't know what I'm gonna do if it doesn't.**


End file.
